


Friend Request Accepted

by Persiflage



Series: Bondkink Fics [59]
Category: Friend Request Pending, James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cruise Ships, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family Issues, Masturbation, Older Woman/Younger Man, Porn With Plot, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 09:20:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary Harwood's not quite given up on the idea of finding a new man - but a playboy millionaire wasn't the man she expected to discover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tayryn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tayryn/gifts), [fuckyeahdench](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyeahdench/gifts).



> AU James Bond/Friend Request Pending cross-over - because my brain's weird that way. I couldn't resist though, after seeing [this post](http://fuckyeahdench.tumblr.com/post/58243317500) on Tumblr.

Throughout dinner Mary was aware of being watched, albeit covertly, by the man at the corner table. He looked about forty, and had a natural suntan and a slightly weather-beaten face in which his blue eyes and gorgeous smile were his two most noticeable features. He was very well dressed, she noticed, in an expensive, pale grey, well-cut three-piece suit, and his blond-brown hair was cut short without quite being a military-style buzz-cut. He made conversation with the waitress, flashing his smile up at her, whenever she came to his table, and Mary was aware that the waitress wasn't the only person who found him attractive.

_Don't be silly, woman_ , she thought crossly, _he's not that much older than your son!_ All the same, she was aware of his subtle scrutiny, and flattered by it. She said nothing to either her friend Linda, nor to any of her children, with whom she was having dinner to celebrate her birthday, but she wondered if there was a way to make contact with the man in a more overt manner, without being too obvious.

FRP-FRP-FRP

James Bond couldn't help watching the white-haired older woman a few tables away: she was laughing and joking with the other members of the party at her table, and her blue eyes seemed to sparkle with fun. 

James saw the younger man beside her signal to the waiter who had been serving at their table, and he had an idea. He beckoned to the waitress who'd been looking after him and, when she approached, gave her a card on the back of which he'd written his mobile number. "When your colleague takes the drinks over to table six, could you ask him to give my card to the lady in the blue dress, please?" He gave her a smile, and she smiled back, before acknowledging his request and taking the card. He wondered if she was disappointed that he wasn't giving his number to her, and he supposed that it was always possible she'd make a note of it; still, if she did and she got in touch, he'd let her down tactfully.

He watched as his waitress gave the card to the waiter, exchanging a few quiet words with him before he continued towards the table with a tray of drinks. James saw the waiter pass a drink to the young man, then another to the second older lady at the table, before he handed the card to the lady in the blue dress, then set her drink in front of her. As he continued to pass out drinks to other members of the group, the recipient of James' card glanced his way, and he saw a flash of pleasure in her eyes, then saw her tuck the card into her shoulder bag. He smiled and nodded to her, then turned his attention to his dessert, which had just arrived. 

FRP-FRP-FRP

Returning to his home that evening, James settled into his chair in his study and switched on his laptop: he was planning a trip to the Caribbean and wanted to order some supplies for his yacht. He saw that he had some new emails, so he clicked to open them before opening his browser to call up his preferred supplier's website. 

He was idly scanning the names of the senders of the various emails when his eye was caught by one with which he was unfamiliar: Mary Harwood – then he noted the subject on the email, _Restaurant_ , and smiled as he opened it up. It wasn't very long, but that was hardly surprising in the circumstances.

_Dear Mr Bond,_

_Thank you for giving me your card at the restaurant tonight. I know you gave me your phone number to ring you, but that felt a little forward to me, and I wasn't sure why you wanted me to get in touch, so I took the liberty of sending an email since your address was on the card also._

_Yours sincerely_   
_Mary Harwood._

James found himself smiling more broadly at this response: he couldn't blame her for choosing to email him instead of ringing, especially since she probably didn't have a clue what had led to his impulse to give her a means of contacting him. The truth was, he'd always been attracted to older women, even as a teenager – one of his university friends had referred to it as his 'Mrs Robinson Complex', and back then he'd assumed he would eventually stop preferring older women, and find one of his own age with whom to settle down. But somehow it had never happened. He knew that he'd taken a risk in seeking to introduce himself to Mary tonight, but he had been keeping an eye on her party for some time before he'd sent her his card, and he'd noted the lack of an older man who was likely to be her husband. While it was possible that such a man was at home or even away, he had decided it was worth taking that small risk, especially since he had noticed Mary discreetly watching him.

He closed her email without answering it, deciding that he wanted to think about how much to say in this first message, and swiftly dealt with the remainder of his emails, then put in the orders for the supplies he needed, before he opened Mary's email again, and began to write: 

_Dear Mary,_

_Thank you for your email. I realise it was very forward of me to give you my card, but I couldn't resist trying to make contact. In fact, I'm going to be even more forward and admit that I wanted to make contact with you because I am interested in getting to know you._

He'd got that far, before he wondered if he was going to frighten her off, so he paused, drumming his fingers on his desk, before he decided to see if she was on Facebook. He found her easily, and began perusing her profile, noting that she had three daughters as well as a son, and five grandchildren too. Her status was given as Single (Widowed), and he sighed with relief when he spotted that bit of information.

There were a lot of family photos in which she'd been tagged, he noted, and he realised that she seemed to have more family than friends in her group of contacts. He wondered if that was through choice, or if she was too good-natured – he'd known other women who had allowed their families to dominate their lives, particularly after being widowed or divorced. To him it always seemed a shame – men were never expected to relinquish their goals for the sake of their family, or not to the extent that they had no life outside of their family – but for women it was considered normal, and even worthy of comment when, rarely, a woman put herself first.

He scowled at his thoughts as he prowled through Mary's Facebook page, until he came to a quiz she'd done, which revealed that her unfulfilled goal was to travel the world and see new places. He felt hope leap in his breast when he read that – and he wondered if that was the way to spark her interest, if not woo her.

He turned back to his email and re-read what he'd written so far, before resuming:

_Dear Mary,_

_Thank you for your email. I realise it was very forward of me to give you my card, but I couldn't resist trying to make contact. In fact, I'm going to be even more forward and admit that I wanted to make contact with you because I am interested in getting to know you._

_I realise that you're probably very busy, but wondered if you'd like to meet up for a drink – or a coffee if you prefer? I'm off to the Caribbean in a couple of weeks’ time, however, so we'd have to fix a date fairly promptly if we're to fit it in before I leave (which I should like to do if at all possible). Failing that, I'll be back about two months from now, as I'll be in the Caribbean for around six weeks._

_I hope to hear from you soon._

_Yours,_   
_James Bond._

He re-read it, hoping it didn't seem too pushy, then clicked 'Send', and after a moment of wrestling with himself, he shut down his laptop and took himself off to shower before going to bed. It would be foolish of him to sit there, waiting for Mary to answer his email when, for all he knew, she was already in bed and asleep.

FRP-FRP-FRP

On the other side of town from James Bond, Mary Harwood hadn't gone to bed yet, although everyone else was asleep; Jenny, her middle daughter, and her husband, Harry, and their two children were all upstairs in her guestrooms, staying for the night after her birthday dinner. She loved her family dearly, but sometimes they overwhelmed her, so she had snuck back downstairs after everyone had gone to sleep and was going to check her emails. She didn't know if James Bond was likely to have replied yet, but she wanted to be sure before she slept. She hadn't told Linda, or any of her children about James giving her his card (fortunately none of them had noticed the waiter deliver it to her); after what had happened between her and Trevor, where everyone had made it their business to discuss their relationship, she was disinclined to become an object of such intense scrutiny for a second time, particularly since James was twenty years her junior. 

Before she'd emailed him earlier, she'd checked out his Facebook page and discovered that he was a multi-millionaire who had made his first million at the age of fifteen, while still at school. He now owned a dozen different companies around the world, but seemed to spend most of his life travelling the world in his luxury yacht, _Carpe Diem_. She'd felt a twinge of envy when she read that – she'd always wanted to travel and see the world, but had never managed more than a weekend trip to Calais when her two eldest children had been small. That was the trouble with being a mother (and grandmother) of course – she hadn't had the money, time, or energy to travel when her children were younger, and now she had the time and the money, at last, she didn't have anyone with whom to go, and she didn't fancy going alone.

She opened her email program and was pleased to see a reply from James Bond already waiting in her inbox. She opened it with a small amount of trepidation, then had to clench her fists and hold them to her mouth to keep in the squeak of excitement when she saw that he wanted to meet her for a drink. She stared at the screen for a few seconds longer, then got to her feet and fetched her diary from the drawer in the Welsh dresser. She grabbed the ribbon marker and tugged it to open the book to the current week, and saw that she was free on Saturday. She sat down at the table and wrote a quick reply to James, offering him two dates: Saturday, and the following Wednesday, to meet up for drinks. She wondered what he'd make of the fact that she was replying to his email at midnight – would he think she'd been waiting up for his email? Well, if he did, he did. While it wasn't strictly accurate, it was accurate enough. 

She stared at the screen for a few minutes more, then signed out and shut down; if she didn't go to bed now, she'd regret it in the morning since she was an early riser. She made her way upstairs to her room, hugging herself with glee, but knowing she would have to be discreet about James, otherwise her children and Linda would plague her just like they'd plagued her about Trevor Holt, the choirmaster.

As she slipped into bed, she made herself suppress her anger over the situation that had arisen. It still annoyed her, six months later, to think that Linda, who had egged her on with regard to Trevor in the first place, had fussed so much when Mary was beginning to think of a more intimate relationship with Trevor. She wasn't fifteen, after all, so it wasn't as if there was any great danger of unwanted pregnancy to worry about, and she had fully intended to ensure Trevor used a condom so that they were in no danger from STDs. Mary also considered that it was no one else's business but her own and Trevor's what they did together – yet her children had behaved as if Trevor was a letch for showing such interest in their mother. Or perhaps they'd merely been disgusted by the thought of two such 'old' people having sex.

She pulled the bedcovers up more closely and shuffled into a more comfortable position. It had been ten years since Martin had died, and although she'd seen a couple of men semi-regularly at different times in the past decade, neither of them had ever made her feel the way Trevor did: young and desirable. Now, thanks to the interference from her family and friend, she and Trevor treated each other as virtual strangers when they saw each other at church, being distantly polite to one another.

She shook her head mentally, resolving to be doubly careful about any potential friendship between herself and James, then settled herself to sleep,

FRP-FRP-FRP

Two days later, she drove through Hatfield town centre and on to a pub called The Harrier – it wasn't in the centre of town, so there was far less chance of running into anyone she knew. Since it was relatively close to where James lived, he hadn't objected to her suggestion that they meet there rather than anywhere closer to her home.

She had dressed up a bit, wearing a nice dress, but putting a light shawl over her shoulders since the dress she'd chosen was strapless. She'd applied only a light amount of make-up, making no attempt to hide the numerous lines on her face – it was far better that James knew exactly what he was taking on since there was no point in pretending she wasn't old enough to be his mother. She wasn't sure she really believed that he would want to do more than have a drink with her once they met in person – after all, a grandmother of sixty had nothing in common with a forty-year old multi-millionaire, but she'd been both flattered and intrigued by his obvious interest in her the other night, so she'd agreed to have a drink with him.

Arriving at the pub, which she'd never been to before, she found James was already there, and waiting for her by the bar, in a spot where he'd see her the moment she came in. She felt a sudden rush of excitement, immediately followed by a flurry of fear, but before she could turn and bolt back out of the door, he'd come to meet her, greeting her in a friendly manner and taking her over to a corner table where he saw her seated with an old-fashioned courtesy, before he sat down too.

"Thank you for coming. What can I get you to drink?"

"Since I'm driving I'd better stick to the non-alcoholic drinks," she said, wishing she'd thought to come by taxi instead of driving herself.

"Very well. What about a non-alcoholic beer?"

Mary shrugged. "I've never had it." He cocked an eyebrow, and she felt herself beginning to blush. "Sorry. I'm not trying to be difficult. Can I have a Diet Coke, please? No ice, no slice."

He nodded. "I'll be back shortly." 

She watched him walk away, feeling stupid and embarrassed. Coming here this evening was beginning to feel like a huge mistake; she should have learned her lesson after things fell apart between herself and Trevor Holt. 

Before she could begin brooding too much, James returned and set down her drink in front of her, then seated himself opposite.

"I don't know why I came tonight," she told him, and he raised an eyebrow again. "Sorry, sorry." Mary pushed back her chair, then stilled when James put his hand over hers.

"I think you might have come here with a different idea about my intentions than I have," he said softly, lifting his hand away again. "I invited you to meet me for a drink because I'd like to get to know you. When I saw you the other night in the restaurant, you caught my eye because you seemed to be the life and soul of your group, and I felt a bit jealous, sitting on my own, and watching you all having fun. I don't have any family, you see. I was an only child, and my parents died when I was still in my late teens: dad died of lung cancer when I was seventeen, and mum died nine months later, a week after my eighteenth birthday. I think she couldn't bear to go on without him – they were so in love."

She gave him a startled look, wondering if he was implying what he seemed to be implying, and he seemed to read her question in her face because he shook his head. "She didn't kill herself," he said quietly. "She had a sudden, fatal heart-attack in bed."

"I'm sorry," she said.

He gave a little shrug. "It was a long time ago now."

"Don't you have any aunts or uncles, or cousins?" she asked.

James shook his head again. "Mum and dad were only children too. Anyway, as I said, I just want to get to know you. I don't have many friends – mostly just staff and hangers-on."

"Aren't I a little old to be your friend?" she asked.

That mobile eyebrow winged upwards again. "You don't have friends younger than you?" he asked. "Two of the handful of friends I do have are around your age – they both taught me at primary school, Mrs Henderson when I was eight, and Mr Selway when I was ten."

Mary leaned back in her chair, then reached out and picked up her glass. "Very well, Mr Bond, I will stay. Thank you."

"James, please," he said, smiling. "If we're going to be friends, Mr Bond and Mrs Harwood are a little formal, don't you think?"

She gave him a surprised look. "Mrs Harwood," she repeated. "I didn't tell you my marital status."

He looked a little abashed. "No, you didn't. I confess, I looked you up on Facebook after I got your first email the other night."

She chuckled. "Fair's fair – I looked you up too."

He smirked, then picked up his own glass. "I counted four children and five grandchildren on your profile, is that right?"

She nodded. "I have three girls and a boy. I expect you know that mine and your mother's generation was expected to play the happy families game. We were supposed to be devoted wives and mothers, and nothing more, especially if your husband had a good job."

"If you could have done anything at all, what would you have done?"

"I'd like to have travelled," she said, "and when I was at school, I always enjoyed my composition classes."

"It's not too late to travel, or to write," he observed.

Mary shook her head. "I don't have anyone with whom to travel, not with Martin gone. And breaking into publishing is such hard work – and so complicated."

"You could always post your writing online," James suggested. "Start a blog. As for the travelling, what about your family, or your friends?"

"Tom's the only one who's still single, and I'm fairly sure he wouldn't want to travel with me – after all, I'd cramp his style."

James snorted. "What about him cramping your style?"

Mary chuckled. "I'm his mother – that means I have no style."

"In his eyes, perhaps. I think you look very elegant, and have a style all your own." 

She ducked her head, aware that she was beginning to blush. "Thank you." She felt his hand on hers again and looked up.

"I meant that. I've seen film stars and fashion models by the dozen – I recognise style and elegance when I see them."

"You're good for my ego," she observed, and this time it was his turn to chuckle.

"Good."

Mary was feeling more relaxed now, and she led him to talk about some of the places he had been, starting with the Caribbean, and before she knew it, it was eleven o'clock.

"I know you haven't had anything alcoholic to drink," James said as they left the pub, "but would you like me to drive you back?"

"That will leave you stuck three miles on the wrong side of town," she said, although she was touched by his offer.

He grinned. "I'll walk," he said. "It's a nice night, after all, and I've spent most of the day stuck at my desk doing paperwork, so the exercise will do me good."

"Clearly being a multi-millionaire doesn't stop you from being a gentleman," she said, smiling up at him as she dug her car keys from her shoulder bag. "Thank you."

He took them from her, and she felt a jolt in her belly as his fingers brushed against hers. She quickly moved around the car to the passenger side, hoping that he hadn't observed her reaction. He unlocked the doors, and they got in together, then he started the car, put it in gear, and pulled away. Mary felt a certain amount of relief that the drive home was so short – she felt an urgent need to be on her own so that she could think without James' presence disturbing her equilibrium. 

FRP-FRP-FRP

James drove Mary's car down the sloping drive to the garage door, then waited while she got out and opened the door, before pulling the car inside. He turned off the engine, then climbed out and rounded the car to return the keys. He felt something akin to a charge of electricity when their fingers touched, just as he had outside the pub, and he was fairly sure she felt the same thing. He dared to put his hand on her shoulder, then leant in to kiss her cheek.

"Goodnight Mary, and thank you for a pleasant evening. I've enjoyed talking with you. I'd like to stay in touch while I'm away, if that's all right?"

She nodded, and he could see, even in the dim light of the garage, that she was pleased by the suggestion. "I'd like that, too."

"Good."

"Thank you for driving me home, and for an enjoyable evening."

"You're welcome." He lifted two fingers to his temple in a faux salute, then stepped through the garage doors, making himself walk away before he could do anything rash. He glanced back when he reached the top of the drive and saw she was watching him, so he waved, and she waved back, then he turned and strode away. 

As he walked back through the town he found himself wondering when he had last wanted a woman as badly as he wanted Mary. He glanced around, noting he was on his own, and cupped his semi-hard cock through his jeans, feeling a further spark of arousal at the touch. He had an idea that inside that demure-looking grandmother there was a very sexy, sensual woman just waiting to be coaxed out, and he admitted to himself that he was egotistical enough to want to be the one who did the coaxing. He wanted to see Mary in the throes of passion, to be the one who had aroused that passion and reaped the fruits of it.

_Admit it, James, you want to fuck her senseless,_ he thought, and acknowledged the truth of that thought. It wasn't all that he wanted, not by any means, but it was something he wanted badly. On the other hand, he'd sensed a certain amount of wariness, even vulnerability, in her and he had gathered, although she hadn't said anything outright, that she had been hurt recently. The thought made him seethe with anger – he didn't like the idea of anyone hurting her, but it also made him acknowledge that he was going to have to take things slowly and patiently. 

Reaching home, he headed upstairs to his bedroom and stripped off, then went into his bathroom for a shower. His cock was still only half-hard, so he ignored it, and concentrated on washing himself, but as his hands worked shower gel across his skin, he thought of the brief touches of his hand and lips on Mary's skin: it had been soft, and despite her age, still supple, and he pictured himself lying naked with her, skin on skin. He wanted to kiss every inch of her, to feather his lips along her jaw and collarbones, to suckle on her nipples, to nip at her earlobes, and to bury his mouth in her pussy. He wondered, idly, whether the hair on her mound was the same white as the hair on her head, and grinned as his cock grew fully stiff. 

Reaching down he cupped his balls, then slid his soapy hand up the length of his prick before skimming it over the head. He spread his legs a little wider to give himself better balance, then proceeded to stroke himself to orgasm as he imagined sliding his swollen cock between her voluptuous breasts, which she'd done her best to hide beneath a shawl tonight, but he'd got a good look at them two nights ago, when she had been dining with her family, and they'd looked magnificent in the low-cut dress she'd been wearing then. He wondered if she would go down on him – he loved oral sex, whether he was on the giving or receiving end. 

He came with a low, wordless cry, his left hand braced against the shower wall, and his chest heaving as he fought for breath; he'd been so lost in his imaginings of Mary that he hadn't quite registered how hard he'd been thrusting into his hand. He finished his shower, then towelled himself off, wondering if Mary would be flattered, or horrified, to know she'd been in his thoughts while he masturbated. Then he wondered if she would be doing the same, and picturing him – he hoped so, and he very much hoped to get the opportunity to ask her.

He finished drying off, hung the towels up on the rail, then returned to his bedroom. He felt wonderfully relaxed and it wasn't only because of the wank he'd just enjoyed – being with Mary had also been relaxing once she was over her initial wariness.

Closing his eyes, he fell asleep almost instantly.

FRP-FRP-FRP

Mary locked the garage, then let herself into her house and headed straight to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. She'd enjoyed her evening with James in the end, and she hoped to see him again, although she didn't suppose that would happen soon since he was about to go away for six weeks. Still, he'd asked to stay in touch during his absence, and she had a feeling she would enjoy getting emails from him – if his emails were anything like his anecdotes, they would be witty, intelligent, and good humoured. 

She took her mug of tea into the sitting room and sat down at the table, opening up her laptop, then her email program. After the business with Trevor, she had got Tom to show her how to password protect her computer – she hadn't wanted Linda 'borrowing' it, and then nosing around where she had no business to be. That incident had caused a rift between them for a while – but Linda was her oldest friend, so eventually she'd accepted her apology and forgiven, if not forgotten, what she'd done.

She sipped her tea while she thought about what she wanted to say to James, beside thanking him. Eventually she made up her mind, and she started to write. Twice she erased a line with a mutter of 'Oh bollocks', and once she stopped to consider the advantages of sending a man on horseback instead of dealing with this technology, but in the end she was satisfied.

_Dear James,_

_Thank you for a pleasant evening. I enjoyed meeting and talking with you, and I look forward to exchanging emails, or chatting on IM while you're away, although I suppose the latter might be more difficult to achieve with the time difference. Anyway, I do want to stay in touch with you, so expect to hear from me occasionally, though I fear you'll find my messages a good deal less interesting than I will find yours._

_I am going to call into the travel agent on Monday and pick up some brochures. Maybe it's time to stop being a wimp and book a trip away, even if it does mean going on my own. I could, of course, ask my friend Linda – the older lady who was at my birthday dinner on Thursday, but we had a bit of a falling out a few months ago, and I'm not sure I'm ready to spend all day every day with her in a foreign country. I did wonder about booking a cruise – perhaps a winter cruise to somewhere warmer – because at least that way I'd be sure of not being left in the lurch if I don't speak a language. I daresay such things seem tame, or old hat, to you but remember I'm new at this – and I feel that it's better to start small._

_Anyway, I hope you have a good trip, perhaps you'll send me a postcard?_

_Yours_   
_Mary_

After reading it through again, she hit the send button before she could change her mind, then she shut down the computer and took her empty mug into the kitchen, rinsing it out before leaving it on the counter by the sink. She made her way upstairs, changed into her nightgown, then climbed into bed, fending off yawns. 

She snuggled under the covers, wondering if James was in bed yet, and whether he was thinking about her. Of course, thinking about James in bed wasn't necessarily a wise move – she was tempted to think about him in a bed with her, although she couldn't really believe that such a thing was a possibility. Which was a shame because he had a very nice body: well muscled, strong, fit, and tanned. He had long fingers, too, she had noticed, and big hands generally. She drifted into thoughts of him putting those hands on her body, of him touching her and stroking her, and she felt a spike of desire. She wondered if he was well-endowed – he certainly had a nice tight arse, she'd enjoyed looking at it clad in his black jeans. 

She uttered a soft moan, then reached out and unlocked the drawer in her bedside table, and pulled out two items: a bottle of lubricant, and a pocket rocket, otherwise known as a clitoral stimulator. She pushed aside the bed cover, then pulled off her nightgown; spreading her legs, she applied some lube to her pussy, moaning at the sensation of her fingers slipping inside herself, then she switched on the sex toy and slid it down her lips and back up again, before placing it against her clit. While she teased her pussy with the toy, she pinched and tweaked her nipples, then squeezed and fondled her breasts; her eyes were closed and she was imagining that it was James' hands on her body rather than her own. She pictured his fingers slipping inside her pussy, while his tongue slipped into her mouth – he would bring her to orgasm, then once she'd calmed down a bit, he'd ease his cock inside her instead, and fuck her deep and hard. 

She climaxed hard, gasping his name as her body bucked up from the bed. Immediately she felt sleepy, and she forced herself to put the toy and bottle of lube on the bedside table, then she pulled her nightgown on again before snuggling down once more. She could feel her sex throbbing with the force of her orgasm, and smiled at the thought of telling James about her fantasy. Moments later she was asleep.

FRP-FRP-FRP

The weeks that James was away seemed to both drag and speed by for Mary; she was busy with the Hatfield in Bloom committee, the local Neighbourhood Watch, the church (she managed to have a normal conversation with Trevor during the second week of James' absence), and her family, not to mention playing tennis twice a week on the Wii with Linda.

She had received a brief but friendly email from James in response to her own thank you note; he had encouraged her to get some brochures from the travel agent, and offered his own assistance in deciding where to go. She had thanked him for that, and suggested that they might get together on his return from the Caribbean to discuss the matter, a proposal to which he'd agreed very promptly.

She got a postcard from him every week during his absence, each one from a different spot: Saint Martin, Antigua, Dominica, Jamaica, Haiti and Montserrat. She admired them, but didn't leave them lying around where Linda might see them – she had carefully kept all references to James from her conversations with either Linda or her family. No ringing Linda at 3am to babble on about how sexy James looked in jeans, or how much she wanted to see him out of those jeans. Every night she lay in bed and pleasured herself while picturing him doing all sorts of naughty and delicious things to and with her, and each night she wished she was brave enough to tell him about her fantasies, to ask if he shared them, but by morning she knew she couldn't.

Two days after getting her final postcard from him, an email popped into her inbox entitled "Dinner?" Opening it with a sense of trepidation, she read:

_Dear Mary_

_I'm back from my trip, and hoping you'll find time in your busy schedule to meet up with me – I was thinking about dinner rather than just drinks this time, if that suits you? I want to talk to you about your potential travel plans._

_Let me know whether dinner is acceptable, and if so, when you'll be free. I'm looking forward to seeing you again._

_Yours_   
_James_

Dinner sounded wonderful – not so much for the food, as for the chance to spend time with him again, to talk and to laugh. She fetched her diary from the drawer and checked to see how soon she had a space in her schedule, then she replied:

_Dear James_

_Welcome back! I hope the cooler autumn weather hasn't come as too much of a shock to your system after all that Caribbean sunshine?_

_Dinner sounds lovely. I'm free Friday and Monday evening, if either of those suit you? Do you know the Redcoats Farmhouse restaurant and hotel, out at Hitchin? They offer a very friendly service and a very good menu, and they're never so busy that you can't book a table at fairly short notice._

_I look forward to seeing you, too._

_Mary_

His response was so rapid he must have been online – and he agreed to dinner on Friday at Redcoats, suggesting seven o'clock, and adding, _That way we've got all evening to talk and eat. I'll come and pick you up in a taxi, that way we'll both be able to have a drink, or two, with dinner._

She smiled at the idea, then sent him another email, agreeing to both suggestions. Once that was done she checked her diary again, saw that she had Friday afternoon free as well, and picked up the phone to book an appointment at the hairdresser. 

At six thirty sharp on Friday evening the taxi James had promised pulled up outside, and Mary let herself out of the house, only to find James already halfway to the door. He smiled down at her, and she smiled back, realising just how pleased she was to see him again. 

"Good evening, Mary. You look lovely." He offered her his arm and she accepted it.

"Thank you. You look rather dashing yourself."

His smile broadened into a grin. "You don't think the tux is overdoing it a little?"

She shook her head. "It looks very good on you."

"Thank you." He handed her into the back of the taxi, then climbed in beside her, and the driver pulled away. 

Mary was immediately conscious of how good James smelled – she wasn't sure what aftershave or scent he'd used, but it was very pleasant. She was also conscious of herself – especially how much he dwarfed her, and yet she didn't feel intimidated by his closeness; instead she had to resist an urge to snuggle into his side.

They made small talk on the twenty minute drive to the restaurant, James asking after her family, while she asked him if he'd resolved a particular business matter which he'd been wrestling with the previous week.

Then they had arrived, and James handed her out of the taxi, and slipped her arm through his as they approached the restaurant door. She smiled when he held the door for her, allowed him to take her coat once they were inside, then the waiter was guiding them to a corner table by the window. 

Dinner was very good: the food was every bit as superb as Mary had remembered, the service was friendly and discreet, and James was absolutely charming. After they'd eaten, a taxi picked them up and took them back to Mary's house, where James paid him off, telling Mary that he'd walk back home.

"Can I use your bathroom first, though?" he asked, looking a little sheepish.

She chuckled. "Of course. Come in." She let them into the house, then directed him to the downstairs bathroom. "Would you like a coffee, or a nightcap, before you go back?" she asked.

"I wouldn't mind a cup of tea, actually, if that's all right with you?"

She nodded. "Come through to the kitchen when you're ready." She gestured along the hall and he nodded, then disappeared into the bathroom.

Mary filled the kettle and switched it on, then got out two cups and saucers, setting them on a tray, then she found the teapot. She put milk into a jug, and added that and the sugar bowl to the tray.

She turned to put the milk back in the fridge, and nearly dropped it in surprise when she found James standing almost behind her. She put a hand to her heart, startled, and he offered a quick apology, then took the bottle of milk from her and returned it to the fridge.

"Are you all right?" he asked, sounding worried.

"Yes, but please don't creep up on me like that again."

"I am sorry. I didn't mean to creep." He put his hands on her shoulders.

She shook her head, suppressing a shiver at the warmth of his hands on her bare shoulders. "No, I don't suppose you did – I'm just rather more used to Tom galumphing about the house."

"Am I forgiven?"

She chuckled again. "Yes, you're forgiven."

"Good." He was still holding her shoulders, and she looked up at him, wondering what was going on behind those blue eyes. She found out a moment later when he lowered his head and kissed her lightly on the lips. She sighed, leaning her body towards his, and he slid his hands down her arms, then embraced her, lowering his head for another kiss. This one wasn't tentative, and lingered rather longer, and when he pulled away, she said softly, "Don't stop on my account."

His mouth curved into a smile, then he kissed her a third time, and this time she parted her lips, allowing him to slip his tongue into her mouth. When he pulled his head away a second time, he gently pulled her body more firmly against his, and she wondered if she was imagining it, or if he was actually aroused. Before she could ask, however, the kettle finished boiling, and he carefully eased his body away from hers, bestowing one final press of his lips against hers, before he reached up and loosened his bow tie.

Mary forced herself to move away so that she could make the tea, but couldn't resist running her fingertips over her lips, which were tingling from his kisses.

FRP-FRP-FRP

James leaned against the door frame as he watched Mary making a pot of tea. He couldn't quite believe his own daring – he'd been wanting to kiss her all evening, but he hadn't intended to actually do so until he was leaving. Still, she hadn't slapped him, or pushed him away, which he considered to be very good signs, in fact she'd responded with some eagerness, and he had high hopes that she would want more than his kisses.

"Let me," he said, reaching out to pick up the tray once the teapot was filled and a blue and white checked tea cosy was settled over it.

"Thank you." She smiled up at him, then moved past him to led the way into an open-plan sitting room and dining room combined.

He followed her over to a large sofa, and set the tray down on a coffee table, on which reposed a small stack of travel agents' brochures. He couldn't help smiling a little at the sight, but he offered no comment.

Mary poured the tea, adding milk but no sugar, at his request, then passing him the cup and saucer before she poured her own (also white but without sugar). 

"I must thank you for introducing me to Redcoats," he said. "I'd never heard of it before, but it's clearly a find."

"Martin and I used to go there for dinner on our wedding anniversary," she told him.

"Then I am honoured you invited me to dine there with you," he said. "Thank you."

"I confess, part of my reason for choosing it was purely selfish," she said, flushing slightly.

"Oh?" He immediately felt intrigued. 

"I knew there was very little chance of us accidentally bumping into anyone I know if we went there, rather than to one of the restaurants in town."

He smirked. "Mary, am I your naughty secret?"

She quirked an eyebrow at him, then blushed more deeply, before nodding. "Yes, you are."

He grinned. "I'm delighted to hear it." He gently nudged her arm with his elbow. "But why am I a secret?"

She gave him a thoughtful look, then sighed. "Six months ago, I was – dating, I suppose you'd call it – a chap called Trevor Holt, he's the choirmaster at my church, and a bit of a fox, to tell the truth. Unfortunately, my friend Linda didn't really approve when my relationship with Trevor threatened to become more serious, well intimate, and she told my children. Between the interference from Linda, Lizzie, my eldest daughter, and Peggy, the youngest of my girls, Trevor and I fell out: he was very angry with the three of them, and I was angry at him for dismissing their concerns." She set down her cup and saucer, then rubbed her hand over her face, before continuing,

"Trevor was right, of course. It was no one's business but mine and his what we did or didn't do, since we're both long past the age of consent, and both free. But I didn't listen to him at the time, and things fell apart between us."

By the time she'd finished, James was scowling. "How did Linda find out that you and Trevor were planning to become intimate?" he demanded.

"She was using my computer while I was out." His eyebrows rose, and she elaborated, "Linda's my oldest friend, and she used to be in and out of here all the time. She had spare keys and everything. Anyway, I'd gone to the hairdresser and she'd come over to ask me to lend her a dress – and she borrowed my computer while she was waiting, and read an email exchange Trevor and I had had to set up a weekend away. She put two and two together and told Lizzie and Peggy, since she knew that neither of them fully approved of Trevor – even though I've been widowed for a decade."

"And she's still your friend?" he asked incredulously.

Mary nodded. "She is – although we're not as close as we were. She doesn’t have my spare keys any more. And I got my son to show me how to password protect my computer."

"I'm glad to hear it." He set down his own cup and saucer, thinking. He'd sensed Mary had been hurt, but he hadn't guessed how badly. "I'm sorry you had such a painful experience," he said softly.

She shook her head. "It wasn't your fault. It was mine – I should have been more careful with my computer, and perhaps a little less trusting of my friend. I certainly shouldn't have let either my friend or my family dictate the terms of my relationship with Trevor." She shrugged. "I know better now, at least."

He nodded. "Well, I understand why you're reluctant to let anyone know about us. I presume Linda and your two daughters would be even less approving if they knew that I'm 20 years your junior?"

"I imagine so."

"If you don't want to take things between us any further I will understand." Saying that, and meaning it, was hard but James did mean it. He had no desire to cause Mary further pain, or another rift between herself and her family or friend.

"But I do," she said swiftly. "I refuse to let anyone tell me who I can see, or how intimate I can become with a man."

He smiled. "I'm glad to hear it." He nodded at the pile of brochures. "Do you want to talk about your travel plans?"

She accepted the change of subject, seeming relieved, and picked up the topmost brochure. James leaned back, and waited to see where she'd chosen.

FRP-FRP-FRP

After James had left, Mary went up to bed with a sense of satisfaction: he'd helped her finalise her plans for a 9-day cruise to the Caribbean Islands, and assisted her in making the booking online. He had also given her a very lingering goodnight kiss before she'd let him out of the house, and she'd been quite sure he was aroused, this time, but he hadn't made any attempt to take things further, which had slightly disappointed her, but also relieved her. She wanted more from James, but she also knew that he was wise to take things slowly for now.

She hadn't been surprised by his sympathy regarding the breakdown of her relationship with Trevor, though his intense anger at Linda, Lizzie, and Peggy had surprised her – she'd already realised he was a very decent man, but she still hadn't expected him to react quite so strongly. 

She wondered how Linda and her family were going to react to the news of her trip – usually she only took trips to stay with her daughters and their families, and while she did enjoy visiting her family, especially her time with her grandchildren, she found she was already beginning to look forward to a solo trip, even though she was also a little nervous at the prospect. Still, she had two months to get used to the idea – and for everyone else to accept it, too. 

As she slipped into bed she couldn't help wishing she was going with James, but she hadn't dared to suggest the idea to him – especially not when she was keeping her relationship with him a secret – it would've seemed too much of a cheek somehow. 

FRP-FRP-FRP

As predicted, Mary's family had all been astonished at the idea of her going away on her own – and on a cruise. When Mary rang and told Lizzie's immediate question was "Won't that be awfully expensive?" and she had wondered churlishly (and instantly felt guilty) whether Lizzie thought her mother was frittering away her inheritance. 

"It wasn't that expensive," Mary said. "I actually got a bargain."

"Well, good. But whatever put the idea into your head?" asked Lizzie, sounding just a little suspicious.

"I kept seeing cruise adverts on the television, and thought that it looked like fun," Mary said, omitting all mention of James' influence – or indeed existence.

"Who are you taking with you?" 

"No one. I'm going by myself."

"Is that wise? What if something happens to you?"

"The tour company has a couple of reps aboard each ship, so I should be safe enough."

"I'm not sure that's enough," Lizzie protested.

"Well, you're welcome to come with me," Mary said, fighting not to snap. "It's a nine-day trip, well eleven with flights to and from the start and finish points. Will Bill and the children be able to manage without you for that long?"

"Of course not!" exclaimed Lizzie crossly. "You could take Tom."

"I can't imagine Tom would appreciate you volunteering him to accompany me," Mary told her. "It wouldn't do his street cred much good."

"Bugger his street cred," answered Lizzie, and Mary knew she was seriously annoyed now. "I don't think you should go alone."

"I'm sorry to hear that you don't think I'm capable of looking after myself for eleven days. I'm only sixty years old, after all. Or do you think senility is setting in?"

"Of course not, mother!"

Mary wasn't convinced that was the case – Lizzie sounded as if that was exactly what she thought.

"Well, I'm glad to hear it. Because I am going – the trip's booked and paid for, and I am looking forward to going."

"Yes, mother."

Mary hung up, knowing that this wasn't the last she'd hear of the matter from Lizzie, and wondering if she would seek to enlist Peggy's support. Her conversation with Jenny was a lot less fraught – in fact, she rather thought her middle daughter was pleased at the prospect; this wasn't very surprising as she had always been closest to Jenny in personality and temperament. 

"I hope you have a wonderful time, mum," Jenny said when Mary had finished giving her the news. "And don't let Lizzie talk you out of going – you've worked hard all your life, looking after us and dad, and making a comfortable home for all of us, so you've earned this trip. You deserve to have some fun, and to get away from us lot for a change." She chuckled softly. "Maybe you'll meet a rich young man and have a bit of a holiday fling."

"Jenny!" Mary was startled by the suggestion. 

"Well, okay, maybe not. But if the opportunity comes up, grab it with both hands. You know how mad I was at Lizzie and Peggy, and Linda too, for breaking up you and Trevor – what they did was unforgivable as far as I'm concerned. Dad's been gone ten years now, and I know he wouldn't have wanted you to remain alone for the rest of your life, if you found someone very special."

"Thank you, love." Mary pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her suddenly damp eyes.

"Any time. If Lizzie gets really stroppy, let me know, and I'll have a word with her."

"I will." 

"Good. And don't forget to send us a postcard – Jack and Sam would love to have one."

Mary chuckled. "I promise I won't forget – I'll even bring some postcards back for them both."

"Thank you – they'll appreciate that. I must go – I've got to go and pick them up from school shortly."

"All right. Thank you."

"Take care, mum."

"You too – my love to the children and Harry."

Mary hung up feeling quite touched by Jenny's support; after Lizzie's reaction, Jenny's quiet acceptance was a pleasant contrast. She took a deep breath, then dialled Peggy's number, wondering if Lizzie would have already rung her youngest daughter and broken the news first. 

"Hello mother." Peggy's cool tone immediately told her that she had, in fact, already spoke to Lizzie while Mary was talking to Jenny.

"Hello Peggy. I just rang to let you know that I'm going to be taking a cruise holiday to the Caribbean in November."

"That's very nice, I'm sure."

Mary couldn't imagine anyone sounding less convinced of how nice it was, but she bit her tongue and forbore to say so. 

"Are you going alone?"

"I am."

"You don't think it would be wiser to have one of us go with you? I'm sure Donald could manage without me."

"I couldn't ask you to do that," Mary said swiftly. The last thing she wanted was Peggy's company – although, admittedly, Lizzie would be less pleasant company.

"I was offering," Peggy informed her.

"Well, thank you for the offer. It's very kind of you, but I am sure I'll manage by myself. The tour company I'm going with has a very good reputation, you know."

Peggy sniffed, and Mary could easily imagine the disdainful expression on her face. "Well, if you prefer to rely on complete strangers, instead of a member of your family, I suppose there's nothing further to discuss."

"I suppose not," Mary agreed, grateful for the brevity of the conversation. 

"Goodbye mother." 

Mary heard a click on the line, then the dialling tone, and breathed out a heavy sigh. Of course, she still had Tom to tell, and Linda, but first she was going to make a cup of tea.

She had only just set the tea down on the coffee table and was reaching for the telephone when it rang, startling her. 

"Hello?" 

"Hello Mary." 

"James! I wasn't expecting to hear from you today."

He chuckled softly. "You said you'd be ringing your children, and your friend Linda to give them the news about your trip," he said. "I thought I'd ring and see how you were getting on, and to give you a bit of moral support."

"You're a very dear man," she said, leaning back against the sofa. "Lizzie was appalled, Peggy volunteered to accompany me, but Jenny was delighted. She actually suggested that I might have a holiday fling with 'a rich young man'."

James laughed, sounding delighted. "What did you say?" 

"I didn't say too much, to be honest," she told him. "I was too startled by the fact she'd made the suggestion in the first place."

"I think I like the sound of your middle daughter," he said. "So, are you tempted to take her advice?"

"James!" Mary protested, laughing. "If you were coming along, then yes, of course. But otherwise, no, I'm not tempted."

"So if I was to come with you, we'd have a proper holiday fling?" he asked.

His tone was wholly serious, now, and she responded in a similar manner. "Yes. If we were both going, I'd like us to go together. As a couple."

"I'd like that," he said softly. "I would very much like to be with you." She heard the sound of keys tapping in the background, before he spoke again. "I could, in fact, join you for the last four days of the cruise."

She swallowed, too surprised to speak for the moment. "You mean that?" she asked when she found her voice again.

"Yes, I mean it. I've got a business conference to go to in Florida during the first five days that you're away, but the last four are free."

"I – " She swallowed again. "I would really like that, James." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Good. Then consider it settled. I'll fly from Florida after the conference finishes and join you in Antigua."

"I'm glad I'm already sitting down," she said, aware that she was shaking slightly from a combination of nerves and excitement.

He laughed quietly. "I'm glad too. Now, I've got tickets for _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ at the Rose Theatre Kingston for Saturday – would you like to go with me?"

"I'd love to!" she said, grateful for the change of subject, and excited at the prospect of seeing _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ , as the current production had been much lauded.

"Good. I'll come and pick you up at five thirty, and we'll have dinner first, then go on to the theatre."

"Thank you, James. I was right, you are a very dear man."

"It's my pleasure, believe me. Good luck with telling Tom and Linda, and I'll see you on Saturday."

"Thank you. See you Saturday."

The call ended, and Mary blew out a breath of surprise. James' call had been a surprise, but his offer to join her for the last four days of her trip had been even more astonishing, but very welcome. She smiled, imagining how pleased Jenny would be if Mary were to confide in her, then she considered how unhappy Lizzie and Peggy would be, and her smile faded. She shook her head slightly, then drank her tea, before she picked up the telephone again to ring Linda and Tom. She decided to leave ringing her son until after she'd spoken to her friend, feeling sure that he would be less fazed by the news than her eldest and youngest daughters had been.


	2. Chapter 2

Saturday came and James went to pick up Mary, looking smart but casual; he hadn’t gone for the tux this time, nor even a suit, but instead he wore dark blue chinos and a long-sleeved shirt in a paler blue; he carried a light coat in case of rain or chilly temperatures after the show.

Mary had dared to wear the same blue dress she’d worn the first time he’d seen her, and he felt a spike of desire at the sight of her bare shoulders and low-cut neckline. She carried a shawl over her arm, and he took it from her and laid it across the back seat of his car before helping her into the passenger seat.

”You look magnificent,” he told her, and was aware of a shiver running through her when he spoke in her ear.

”Thank you. You look pretty good yourself. Rather yummy, in fact.”

He smirked. “Yummy, is it?”

“Definitely.”

“Hmm.” He could see a mischievous glint in her eyes, and he was very sorely tempted to forget dinner, forget the theatre, and drive her straight back to his place so they could feast on each other, but he made himself get into the driver’s seat, and head towards Kingston, not home. As hard as he was for her, he still didn’t want to rush into the more intimate side of their relationship – after what had happened with Trevor, she was bound to be a little wary still, despite the fact she had said that she wanted more from their relationship when they’d been arranging for him to join her on the cruise.

They chatted all the way to the theatre in Kingston; she told him about the reactions from Linda (nearly as horrified as Lizzie) and Tom (very laid back) to her planned trip, then he asked her questions about Jenny – because otherwise he’d have wanted to talk about her trip, or rather him joining her on the trip, and then he’d be trying to fight off an erection that even she wouldn’t be able to miss seeing.

They had a light meal before heading to the theatre, and found a number of other patrons were there too, so many, in fact, that they ended up sharing a table with a married couple around James’ age. It amused him to note that during the conversation the husband clearly assumed that James was Mary’s son, while the woman made no such assumption. They didn’t enlighten the couple either way, however, and James felt a certain amount of satisfaction when they discovered they were seated in quite a different part of the theatre to the couple.

“Pompous prick,” James muttered as the couple went off while ahead of them.

Mary giggled. “You’re a bad man,” she told him.

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it, Mary,” he said, and saw her eyes widen at his words. Once he was given the opportunity, he intended to be very bad indeed where she was concerned.

“Really? I look forward to demonstrations at a not-too-distant moment.”

He chuckled, pleased by her riposte. “Believe me, dear lady, I intend to give you some very thorough demonstrations.”

She smirked. “Good.”

“I’ve a feeling you’re not half as good as you appear, either.”

That elicited another giggle, but as they had reached the theatre by now, she didn’t offer any further comment as they made their way to their seats.

FRP-FRP-FRP

Mary enjoyed the play - _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ was one of her favourite Shakespeare plays – but a small part of her mind was in a state of total distraction throughout as she considered all the implications of James’ remarks about being a ‘bad man’. She hadn’t missed the expression of desire in his eyes when she had called him ‘yummy’, nor had she failed to spot his arousal since his chinos didn’t leave much the imagination, and for a brief moment she’d considered suggesting they forget about dinner and the theatre, and just go upstairs to her bedroom. She hadn’t made that suggestion, however, because she didn’t want him to feel she was spurning his plans for the evening.

She was beginning to wish that November wasn’t so far away, and also to wonder if they’d both have enough self-restraint to wait until then before they engaged in sexual intimacy. She had begun to spend more time masturbating than usual – and always she fantasised about James being in her bed, and inside her, when her sex toys were working on her body. She had even gone so far as to order an actual vibrating dildo online, and had given herself a number of orgasms with it; she felt slightly guilty about how much she was lusting after James’ body, but she had a shrewd idea he was reciprocating in spades. 

As they left the theatre she made a decision. “James?”

“Yes Mary?”

“Would you mind if we go back to your place instead of mine for a nightcap?”

He looked startled, but he very quickly smiled. “I don’t mind at all,” he said, his tone full of reassurance.

”Thank you.”

To her relief he didn’t press her for an explanation, nor tease her about it, he simply drove as swiftly as was compatible with safety and the speed limit, and within forty-five minutes he was pulling up outside a house on the outskirts of Hatfield, on the opposite side of town to her own home. He handed her out of the car, gathered up her shawl and his coat, then led her down the side of the house and let them into the kitchen.

“Tea, or do you want an actual nightcap?” he asked, flicking on the lights.

“I think I could use a stiff whisky, actually,” she told him.

He smiled, then slipped her arm through his and led her through to his sitting room. “Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the wide leather sofa.

”Thank you.”

He went across to the drinks cabinet in the corner, and poured them both a drink, then carried the glasses across to the sofa. “Here you are.”

“Thank you.” She took a deep swig, and saw James’ eyebrows rise in response.

“Are you all right?”

His concern was obvious and genuine, and she wondered if he knew how much like a teenager on her first date she felt.

She nodded. “A little nervous.”

He raised an eyebrow again. “Why, Mary?

“Because I want to be with you.”

He put down his glass on the coffee table, then slipped an arm around her shoulders. “There’s no rush, you know,” he said softly.

“Are you sure?” she asked, and cupped the prominent bulge of his cock through his trousers.

He pressed a kiss to her hair, then tilted her chin up with his free hand. “I’m quite sure,” he said. “I can easily take care of that myself – I usually do.”

“Do you think of me?” she asked, not quite believing that she was being so bold as to ask him that, but immensely curious all the same.

”Oh my dear, always.” He grinned at her. “Every time I wank, ever since that first evening when we had drinks together at the Harrier. I have been picturing all the things I’d like to do with or to you, or have you do to me.”

She chuckled softly. “I have been doing the same thing.”

“Have you, now?” he asked.

She nodded. “What is your favourite fantasy?”

“I’m not sure I should tell you,” he mused. “You might be shocked.”

“I might not.”

It was his turn to chuckle. “True. Well, one of my favourite fantasies involves going down on you, until I drive you to an orgasm, then – " he paused a moment, then resumed, "making love to you."

She lifted her eyebrows, smirked, then leaned into his shoulder. "I believe the word you wanted," she said in a low, sultry voice, "was fuck."

To her delight he actually blushed before he nodded. "Yes, it was, but it seemed a little indelicate to say so."

She laughed. "But it's honest," she told him, "and I like honesty."

He lifted her head from his shoulder and kissed her, long and slow, and very intensely. She felt as if she was melting as his arm encircled her and drew her body firmly against his. It was the most exquisite kiss she'd ever had, and she felt her body beginning to heat and flush as her arousal built and built. She longed for him to touch her and wondered if she had the courage to tell him so, but apparently he could read her mind, because she felt his hand on her thigh, then sliding up under the hem of her dress. His fingertips slid down the entrance of her sex, then back up, and she jerked against him, gasping for breath, and he slid a finger under the silk of knickers, and eased the tip inside her.

"Fuck!" She gasped the word out as her climax hit her forcefully.

FRP-FRP-FRP

James was astonished by how quickly he'd brought Mary to an orgasm, when he'd hardly got started. On the other hand, if she was as responsive as this, then he wouldn't have to worry about getting her off; some of the older women with whom he'd been had taken a good deal of foreplay before they climaxed. Not that he didn't enjoy foreplay, but if a woman took a long time to 'warm up', it could begin to feel more like work than pleasure.

He kissed Mary's forehead as she got her breathing back under control; his hand was still under her dress, and he began stroking his thumb back and forth across her thigh.

"More?" he asked, when she looked more capable of coherent speech.

"Yes please." Her immediate, eager response made him smile.

"Do you always come so quickly?" he asked, as he eased the tip of his finger back inside.

"I never used to," she told him, then gasped as he pushed his finger a little deeper.

"What changed?" he asked. He withdrew his hand and began sucking on and licking his first two fingers, then he resumed easing his second finger inside her.

"You." She was flushed, her hair was tousled, and her eyes a little glazed, and he felt as if he'd never seen such a beautiful sight.

"Me? Why me?" he asked, as he pressed his finger against the walls of Mary's pussy. 

"Since we met," she said, pausing to take a deeper breath, "I've been – oh God! – I've been masturbating far more often."

He couldn't help grinning a little at this. "And picturing me, fucking you?"

"Yes." She gasped again, then pressed against his hand. "More. Please."

James felt a spike of arousal jolt through his groin at Mary's words, and he leaned his head down and kissed her hungrily on the mouth, as he began to thrust his finger more firmly in and out of her, determined to drive her to another orgasm.

Within a few minutes she was shuddering in his arms again, and he kissed her more gently, then withdrew his hand. He was startled when she caught hold of his wrist and drew his hand to her mouth to suck clean the finger he'd had inside her. How he managed not to come himself at that precise moment, he was unsure, but it was a more erotic sight than anything he could remember seeing in quite a long time.

"Apparently you were right," he told her, and she gave him a puzzled look, in spite of the satiated expression in her eyes. "I can't shock you."

She chuckled. "Well, not so far," she said. "But how hard were you trying?"

James laughed. "Not that hard, I must admit."

"Mmm. Perhaps you'll try harder next time." She settled herself more comfortably beside him, then said, "And talking of hard things." Her hand skimmed over his closely confined erection. "You should do something about this."

"I will, after you've gone home."

She raised an eyebrow. "Why wait until then?"

He moaned softly. "Really? You want to watch me masturbate?"

"Not shocked, are you James?"

"No, totally turned on."

She kissed him quick and hard. "Good." She reached down and unfastened the button and zip on his chinos, then he brushed her hand aside to ease his cock free. "That's a beauty," she murmured, and he moaned again, so she smirked at him. "Go on then, James, show me your moves."

He chuckled. "If I am a bad man, you're definitely a bad girl," he told her, as he cupped his balls, then drew his hand up the length of his rigid shaft.

"I never used to be," she observed, watching avidly as he began to stroke himself, and noting the way his hand flicked over the head of his cock. "Close your eyes, and tell me what you want to do to me."

A faint blush tinged his cheeks, but he did close his eyes, before he began to speak. "I want to fuck your breasts," he said softly. "I want to go down on you, bury my face between your thighs and eat you out until you come, preferably screaming my name. I want to bury my cock inside your hot pussy and pound into you. I want to make love to you slowly, drawing out your orgasm until you're begging me to let you come."

James' hand was beginning to move faster now, Mary saw, and his hips were starting to thrust upwards so that he was fucking his hand, instead of merely stroking his cock.

"What else?" she asked, her voice as soft as his. "What else do you want to do, and what do you want me to do to you? Do you want to thrust your beautiful cock into my mouth and fuck me that way?"

"Oh Christ!" 

"Do you James? Tell me."

"Yes, yes!" 

"And will you shoot your cum down my throat when I suck you off?"

"Fuck!" James' shout was loud as he began to ejaculate, and Mary leaned sideways to take his spurting cock into her mouth. "Fuck! Oh fuck!"

FRP-FRP-FRP

By the time Mary went away in November the only act they hadn't carried out together was actual intercourse; Mary had gone down on James several times, to his immense gratitude, and she let him go down on her, too. They also masturbated together, watching each other avidly as they each stimulated themselves to orgasm.

The night before Mary left for her cruise trip, and James left for his conference in Florida, she went to James' for dinner. He had insisted that she shouldn't bother dressing up, telling her that he was planning to stick to jeans and a sweater, and it occurred to Mary that he'd never seen her in trousers, so she pulled out a pair of cord trousers which she was pleased to discover she could still fit into, even though she hadn't worn them for two years. She added a blouse and a sleeveless sweater to her outfit, and when James came to collect her, she noticed an appreciative gleam in his eyes at the sight of her.

"Hello James." 

"Hello yourself." He slipped his arms around her and kissed her deeply, and she moaned softly when she felt his arousal pressing against her.

"Put me down, you bad man," she scolded once she'd pulled her mouth free of his. He pouted, and she chuckled, swatting at his arm. "Food first, and I don't mean me."

"Spoil-sport."

"Now then, James. Don't say that, you don't know what I've got planned for later."

His eyes lit up at her words, and he kissed her again. "That's a thank you in anticipation," he said, and she chuckled again.

"Behave yourself. Now, let's get out of here."

"Yes ma'am."

He drove her back to his place, his left hand wandering onto her knee at intervals, until she threatened to go straight home as soon as they'd eaten dinner.

"I'll be good, I'll be good," he assured her, laughing.

"Make sure you are, until after dinner at least."

He nodded, and she smiled to herself, wondering just how he was going to react to what she had got planned. Since they weren't going to see each other for five days, she'd decided they should do something special on their final evening together.

FRP-FRP-FRP

James forced himself to patience and self-restraint as they ate dinner; Mary's teasing remarks made him wonder if he was finally going to get to fuck her – not that he hadn't enjoyed all the other things which they'd done together, but he had to admit that he was longing to slide his cock into her and fuck her to orgasm before filling her with his cum.

He suppressed a moan at the mental image he'd just conjured up, and concentrated on offering Mary coffee once they'd finished eating.

"No, thank you, James." She smiled at him. "You've been very good, and very patient, so I think we should go upstairs."

"Upstairs?" he asked, surprised. Whatever sexual activities they'd engaged in, they'd always stayed downstairs, taking advantage of the wide sofa he had in his sitting room.

She nodded, and he wondered if he was imagining the shy expression in her eyes.

He got to his feet, then held out his hand to her, and she took it with a little smirk, then he led her into the hall and upstairs to his bedroom. She wandered across to his king-size bed, then stopped beside it and looked up at him. 

"There's one fantasy of yours which we haven't yet fulfilled," she said, "besides the actual sex, that is."

He raised an eyebrow, then felt his face heating up. "You mean – "

She nodded, then slipped off her sleeveless sweater and dropped it onto the chair that stood close to his bed.

"Let me," he said hoarsely as she reached for the buttons on her blouse.

She dropped her hands, and he began unbuttoning her blouse as he brought his mouth down on hers for a soft, lingering kiss. He slid the blouse off, then tossed it onto the chair, before wrapping his arms around her and kissing her more deeply. He unfastened her bra and eased it down and off, then brought his hands up to cup her full, heavy breasts in both hands.

"Beautiful," he murmured, rubbing his thumbs over her nipples so that they stiffened and tightened. He guided her down onto the bed, then bent and tugged off his shoes, before he climbed onto the bed beside her.

"Will you take your sweater off, please James?" Mary asked before he lay down.

He smiled, then tugged it off, dropping it carelessly onto the floor. He lowered himself down next to her, then drew her closer, and began kissing her sensuously, relishing the feeling of her breasts pressed against his chest. Eventually his mouth moved down her throat, and onto the tops of her breasts, before he lowered it still further to take one peaked nipple into his mouth. She moaned, clutching at his head, as he sucked, licked, and nipped at her flesh. He lavished attention on both breasts in turn until she was quivering beneath him, then he drew back and opened the drawer of his bedside table, taking out a tube of lubricant, and dropping it onto the bed beside her. 

He got to his feet and unfastened his jeans, watching Mary's face as he slid them down his legs, revealing his stiff prick to her appreciative gaze. He knelt down next to her, and she sat up, picked up the lube, uncapped it, and applied a generous amount to his cock.

"Ready?" he asked, and she nodded, then lay back down again. He straddled her body, then laid his cock between her breasts, and she squeezed them together, trapping his erection.

"Fuck my tits, James," she said, her voice low but firm.

"Gladly," he told her, and drew his cock back, before thrusting it forward again. He groaned quietly, both at the sensation and the sight of his prick sliding between her breasts. She lapped at the head of his cock as it appeared in front of her mouth, and he gasped, then began to thrust more quickly, almost unbearably aroused now.

Mary urged him on with soft cries of "More" and "Harder", and he felt his orgasm building up, until he gasped out a warning that he was close.

"Come on my breasts, James."

His hips jerked, and then he was spilling his seed onto her flushed skin.

FRP-FRP-FRP

Mary could feel her pussy throbbing with want as James spilled his cum onto her breasts, but she knew she'd have to wait for him to recover a little before she revealed the other part of her plan for the evening.

He flopped down next to her, breathing heavily, then leaned over to kiss her. "Thank you for letting me do that," he said quietly.

She smiled. "It was my pleasure, too," she assured him.

"Good."

"We're not finished yet, though."

"Oh aren't we?" he asked, his tone rather arch, which made her chuckle.

"Not yet, no."

"What else do you have in mind, then?" 

"I brought my vibrator with me," she told him, feeling her cheeks heating up. "I want you to fuck me with that, please."

His eyebrows rose so high, they threatened to disappear into his hairline. "You're serious," he said, and she nodded, even though it wasn't a question. "Fuck!" He pushed himself up on his elbow. "Where is it?"

"In my shoulder bag."

He rolled off the bed, walking around it, to pick up the bag she'd discarded on his dressing table, and fished the device out, then carried it back to the bed. "I want to go down on you, first," he told her.

"I was hoping you'd say that," she confessed, and he smirked. 

Dropping the vibrator onto the bed, he proceeded to unfasten her trousers before peeling them down her legs, and discarding them on the floor. Then he reached for her knickers, and she saw him smile at the sight of the damp spot on the crotch, before he slid the silk off her as well. He gently parted her thighs, then slipped a finger inside her to test how wet she was already. He leaned down to kiss her mouth, before he stretched out on the bed between her legs and applied his very talented mouth to her warm pussy, quickly driving her to her first orgasm with no more than a few licks. He continued, curling his tongue into a tube and fucking her that way, before he added a finger to the mix inside her. She clutched at his head as she came the second time, her back and hips arching upwards off the bed, and her breathing ragged.

"That's my girl," he said quietly as he eased her through the aftershocks with his finger still inside her wet heat. 

Once she'd caught her breath, he leaned down to kiss her, then he picked up the lube and slathered some onto the vibrator. 

"Ready?" he asked again.

She nodded, and he carefully eased the head of the sex toy into her pussy, pushing it deeper when she muttered, "More". He lay down next to her and began to kiss her as he withdrew the vibrator, then thrust it in a little more rigorously, the device buzzing in his hand. After a few thrusts he said, "Wait a moment," and leaving the toy inside her, he shifted her body over on top of his before he resumed thrusting the vibrator in and out of her. She kissed him hungrily and he relished the feeling of being skin on skin with her, even if his cock wasn't yet buried inside her pussy. He wrapped his left arm around her torso while continuing to fuck her with the toy, and as she rocked against it, he felt his prick stiffening again.

Mary came with a loud cry, and James felt her body shuddering and shivering at the force of her explosive orgasm. He switched off the toy, then pulled it free and set it on the bedside table before cradling her body against his.

"Thank you, James."

"It was my pleasure, too," he told her, echoing her earlier words. 

FRP-FRP-FRP

The next day Mary drove to the airport to catch her flight to the starting point for her cruise. Tom went with her to bring her car back home so she wouldn't have the expense of leaving it in the airport car park.

"Mum?"

"Yes Tom?"

"You don't have to answer this, if you'd rather not, and I promise I won't say anything to the others if you do answer, but are you seeing someone again?"

She cast him a swift, sharp look, then asked, "Why do you ask?"

"Just lately, you seem to be – well, I suppose the word is glowing. So I wondered if there was a man in your life." He gave her a disarming smile. "I won't say anything, I promise you."

"Yes, I am seeing someone again."

"Good. I'm glad. I know Jenny would be too, if you decided to tell her, but I'll understand if you choose not to."

"I don't plan to tell her just yet," Mary told him.

He nodded. "All right. I did promise not to say anything, and I meant it, but I'm happy for you. I wasn't impressed with Peggy and Lizzie's interference, not to mention Linda's, when you were seeing Trevor earlier in the year, so I don't blame you for keeping this man quiet."

"Thank you, Tom, that means a lot to me."

He gave her a smile, then turned his attention back to his phone, and Mary couldn't help thinking that at least half of her children were not a disappointment to her. She had considered telling Jenny about James, but she had decided to wait until after her holiday, at least, before saying anything. She would lying if she didn't admit, at least to herself, that it gave her a good deal of pleasure to be 'sneaking around' with James, although only Tom lived close enough, of her children, to see anything of her on a regular basis, and he apparently hadn't spotted James' comings and goings from her house. She saw sufficiently less of Linda that she had been fairly confident her oldest friend wouldn't have seen James, and she knew Linda well enough to be certain that if she had spotted James, she wouldn't have kept quiet about it.

She supposed she would have to tell the others about James eventually, but so far she hadn't found a good enough reason not to go on keeping her relationship quiet; Lizzie and Peggy had continued to drop hints that she ought to be taking someone else with her on her cruise trip, as had Linda, although with less frequency than her daughters. Such behaviour didn't incline her to tell them anything it wasn't strictly necessary for them to know, and there was absolutely no reason for any one of the three of them to know that she had found herself a man who was regularly giving her orgasms and whom she was looking forward to fucking while on her cruise trip.

The thought made her smile inwardly, but she kept her thoughts to herself as she concentrated on getting into the right lane for Heathrow's Terminal 5. A little while later, she pulled into the setting down lane, and she and Tom quickly got her two bags out of the boot, then she gave him the car keys. He kissed her on the cheek, briefly hugged her, told her to have a fantastic trip, and promised to come and pick her up once her return flight got in.

Mary waved to him as he drove off, then turned to pick up her bags, only to find a porter was already gathering them up for her. She thanked him, then followed him inside the hot, noisy, bustling terminal.

FRP-FRP-FRP

James was glad when his business conference was finally over, and he was able to escape to the airport for his flight to Antigua. He was eager to see Mary again, to find out how she had been enjoying her cruise so far and if she got a taste for foreign travel now. Of course, he was also eager for the chance to finally and fully consummate their relationship, but he had found himself missing her on many levels: she was shrewd, quick-witted, amusing, and intelligent, and being around her was a lot of fun.

As he settled into his seat in his private jet, he wondered whether she'd agree to the plan he'd come up with – he'd had one of his staff bring his yacht from where he'd left it in Grand Cayman to Antigua, and he was going to invite Mary to spend the remaining four days of her holiday with him, rather than continuing her cruise. He was perfectly happy to reimburse her for the cost of the remainder of her trip, but he had realised that he wanted her all to himself for the four days that were left before she went home. 

Closing his eyes, James allowed himself to drift into sleep: his conference had been tiring, all the wining and dining that went on outside of the conference room as deals were sealed, or people rewarded for their hard work and loyalty, had meant he'd partied harder than he'd have liked. At least he'd slept alone, however, so he wasn't worn out in that regard – he'd been saving himself for Mary, and had only wanked once in the five days that he'd been apart from her. 

FRP-FRP-FRP

Mary had quite enjoyed her cruise so far, although she could have wished for James' livelier company; she'd had to fend off the attentions of two overweight old men who had, it appeared, fancied themselves as Casanova. Considering the real life Casanova with whom she was involved at present, she hadn't been tempted to even have a drink with either of the two men. 

She'd also had to fend off attempts by three different elderly widows who were desperately eager to befriend her, and add her to their whist-playing group. She was looking forward to James' arrival and hoped that his presence would put off both groups, thereby sparing her from any more unwanted attentions.

At least dealing with such people had kept her from brooding too much at the prospect of being reunited with James, and of finally letting him fuck her as she so longed for him to do. She had briefly wondered how the other passengers would react to her being joined by a man twenty years her junior – she had no intention of keeping it a secret from anyone here that she was enjoying a carnal relationship with James, but she had dismissed the matter fairly quickly – it wasn't really any of their business, after all.

When the cruise ship docked in Antigua, Mary immediately looked around for James, waving at him when she spotted his tall figure striding towards her. He was wearing knee-length shorts in a mid-blue, and a loose cotton shirt of a lighter shade of blue; there were sandals on his feet, and a hat on his head, not to mention sunglasses protecting his eyes, but the huge grin he wore told her just how happy he was to see her, and when he picked her up and kissed her hard, his tongue easily slipping into her mouth, she felt his swollen prick pressing against her through the thin cotton dress she wore.

"You missed me, then," she teased once he'd released her mouth and reluctantly set her back down on her feet.

"Like crazy," he admitted. 

"Good, because I missed you, too."

"I've got a suggestion," he said, and told her about his yacht.

"That is a brilliant idea!" she said when he'd finished. "I can't tell you how delighted I am by your suggestion. Can we go and get my luggage now?"

He chuckled. "We certainly can," he agreed. "What do you want to tell the tour rep?"

"That I'm going home early because of a family emergency," she said promptly.

"Very well."

Half an hour later, James was leading Mary aboard his yacht, _Carpe Diem_ , while a man carried her bags onto the deck. James thanked him, tipped him, then sent him on his way.

Turning around again, he said, "We'll take your bags below, and I'll show you around, then we'll find a quieter spot in which to anchor and catch up over an early lunch."

"Sounds good," she said, and followed him down below deck.

He set her bags down in a large cabin, which he told her was his stateroom, and showed her the ensuite bathroom, before he showed her the guest stateroom across the narrow companionway. He also showed her the galley and the dining area, before they made their way up on deck where he cast off, then eased the yacht away from the harbour and began to sail along the coast. Mary sat on a deck chair, watching him intently; his skill as a sailor seemed obvious to her, and she enjoyed the sight of him standing, legs astride and arms braced as he steered the yacht towards a quieter anchorage. 

FRP-FRP-FRP

They had their light lunch, which Mary enjoyed; it was accompanied by half a bottle of champagne, which prompted her to tease James with accusations of trying to get her squiffy. He laughed, then denied it, saying he simply wanted to celebrate their reunion and help her to relax since she had seemed rather stressed out about the unwanted attentions of her fellow passengers.

"Well, that's true," she agreed. "They were a bit over-zealous in their attempts to make me one of them."

"So no more cruise trips for you?" James asked.

"Probably not. Well, we live and learn, don't we?"

He nodded, then changed the subject, to her relief, and began asking her about the places she'd seen while visiting each of the islands at which the ship had stopped. After that, she asked him about his conference, which he stigmatised as dull and exhausting, before telling her a couple of anecdotes that made her laugh, which served to unwind her as much as the champagne did.

"What would you like to do this afternoon?" he asked once he'd cleared away the remnants of their lunch.

"Would you think it very decadent of me to say I'd actually like to sunbathe for a bit?"

He raised an eyebrow. "My dear Mary, you're on holiday, you can be as decadent as you like."

She chuckled. "Very well, then."

"I trust you've got some sunblock?" She nodded. "In that case, then, you should feel free to sunbathe as long as you like."

"Thank you, James."

"I have a bit of paperwork I must sort out as a result of the conference, so I'll do that while you sunbathe, and then we'll take things from there." 

"All right. I'll go and change into my bikini." 

He smirked, and she swatted at his arm, which made him grab her and pull her into a close embrace while he kissed her so thoroughly as to leave her breathless. "Christ, Mary, I've missed you so much."

"And I you," she assured him. "Now do your paperwork and let me sunbathe for a bit."

"Yes ma'am."

FRP-FRP-FRP

James settled himself at the dining table with his laptop and paperwork after seeing Mary settle herself on a large towel on the deck. Her bikini was gold, and quite a bit briefer than he'd expected, which had left him with a hard-on and an urgent desire to finish his paperwork as soon as possible because he wanted to 'have his wicked way with her', as she'd phrased it.

It took him two hours to get everything dealt with to his satisfaction, then he changed out of his shirt and shorts, substituting a pair of light blue swimming trunks in their place. He padded out on deck, and found Mary asleep on her towel. She was lying face down, with her head resting on her folded arms, and she had unfastened her bikini top, leaving her back bare. He knelt down beside her and rested his hand on her shoulder, and she woke immediately.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," he said apologetically.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep," she told him, her expression rueful. She pushed upwards, and he helped her to sit up, noticing that she didn't seem to mind that her breasts were now bare.

"Do you want a cold drink?" he asked. "You don't want to risk getting dehydrated, especially when we had champagne for lunch."

"Yes, please." 

He nodded, then got to his feet and headed back to the galley, where he made them both a tall glass of fruit juice. When he turned around from returning the bottle of juice to the fridge, Mary was standing a couple of feet away. 

"I need to pee," she told him, and he smiled.

"That's okay. I'll take these out onto the deck, unless you want to sit in here?"

"The deck is fine," she said, "but have you got something more comfortable to lie on? A towel on that wooden deck isn't very comfortable for an older body like mine."

"I have," he assured her.

She nodded, then made her way to his stateroom to use the ensuite bathroom, and he carried the drinks out and set them on a table that he unfolded upwards from the deck. He then fetched a mattress from the other stateroom, which he laid down half way between Mary's towel, and the wall of the bridge: they wouldn't be in the full blaze of the sunshine there, which should mean they would be more comfortable.

Mary returned, and he gestured to the mattress, then fetched their drinks.

"Here you are."

"Thank you, James." Her fingers brushed against his as she accepted the glass from him, and he felt his cock beginning to stir again. She took a deep swallow of the juice, then leaned against his shoulder. "I have a feeling you've located us very strategically," she observed.

He chuckled. "I have," he agreed.

"Well, we've waited for this long enough," she said, taking another swallow of her juice, then she gave him the glass. "I think I've finished with that for the moment, James, thank you."

He raised an eyebrow when she smirked, then he took a deep swallow of his own drink, before carrying the glasses back over to the table. When he turned around again, she was lying back on the mattress, leaning on one elbow so that she could watch him.

"I'll be back in a moment," he told her, then hurried back to his stateroom where he collected a couple of items before returning to the deck. He set them down next to the edge of the mattress, and Mary grinned when she saw he'd brought a tube of lubricant and a box of condoms. She lay down properly on the mattress, then spread her legs in invitation, and James moaned softly, then reached out to remove her bikini bottoms. He tossed them onto the towel, where her bikini top remained, then he knelt between her legs and leaned down to kiss her. She wrapped her arms around his body and pulled him down so that he lay atop her, and as they kissed she shifted beneath him so that his cock rubbed against her pussy with only his swimming trunks between them.

"Fuck, Mary!" 

"Yes, James. Please, fuck me." 

He reached out for the lube and uncapped it, then poured some onto his fingers. "First things first," he told her, and she smiled up at him.

"You're always so thoughtful," she observed.

"Well, it's no fun for me if it hurts you." He leaned down to kiss her again as he began stroking her pussy with his lubricated fingers, and she moaned, then shifted beneath him, telling him wordlessly that she wanted more. He pushed his fingers deeper, and began to fuck her properly with them, watching her face as he drove her closer and closer to climax: seeing her in the throes of orgasm was always a wonderful sight to him. Her body jerked up off the mattress and he smiled; she cried out, far more loudly than was usual for her, and he guessed it was their location – it was obvious no one could be listening.

He eased his fingers out of her, then kissed her softly. "All right?"

"Mmm. Delicious," she agreed. 

He chuckled, then kissed her again, a little less tenderly, then gasped as he felt her hand slip into his trunks and squeeze his achingly hard cock.

"Come along, Mr Bond, I want your cock inside me."

"Yes ma'am." He pushed himself up and dragged his trunks off. He tossed them aside, then knelt back down beside Mary, and she watched avidly as he rolled a condom down his hard length, then uncapped the lube and applied some.

"I've been counting the days until we did this," she told him.

"You're not alone in that," he assured her.

"So what are you waiting for?"

FRP-FRP-FRP

James' chuckle in response to her question made her smile up at him. "I'm just savouring the anticipation for a moment longer," he told her.

She rolled her eyes. "Enough savouring."

He smirked, then asked, "Do you have a preferred position?"

She gazed up at him, wide-eyed in surprise: her husband had never once asked her that in all their years of marriage.

"No, I don't. Please, James, just fuck me!"

"All right, all right." He shook his head slightly. "I thought it was me who was supposed to be the epitome of impatience?"

"Well, I'm not getting any younger," she told him.

He laughed, then lay down, taking his weight on his forearms, then he shifted so he could line up his cock with her pussy. She moaned loudly when he eased the head inside, and clutched at his shoulders.

"For god's sake, don't stop," she gasped.

"No, no stopping," he agreed, sounding a little breathless himself. He guided his cock a little deeper, then repositioned himself so that he was leaning on both arms again.

Mary wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled his body down flush with hers, then she wrapped her legs around him, and bit his earlobe before hissing, "Fuck me, James, or so help me – "

She didn't have to finish the threat, fortunately, because he thrust in the rest of the way, then withdrew slowly, before thrusting in again. "Yes, James, yes. Harder, please."

"Oh God!"

She had never heard a man sound as if he was coming undone before, but that was how he sounded at that moment, and she wondered if he was used to women lying passively beneath him while he fucked them. Then she stopped thinking coherently at all as he picked up the pace of his thrusts and began to pound into her, just as he'd once told her he had fantasised about doing. She wrapped her arms and legs more tightly around him, then squeezed her pussy muscles along the length of his cock, which elicited a cry of her name.

Moments later she was coming, her body arching upwards beneath him as her orgasm seemed to seize every single muscle and throw it into spasm simultaneously. She was gasping for breath, and hardly able to see straight, so violent was her climax; then James began to thrust even more relentlessly, and she knew he was close to his own crisis point.

FRP-FRP-FRP

"Fuck!" James slid his arms under Mary's body, then rolled over, cradling her closely in his arms. "Are you all right?"

She chuckled, and he felt his cock twitch a little at the sound; he was still buried inside her slick heat, and he was in no rush to pull out for the moment.

"I'm very all right," she told him, and nuzzled the side of his neck. "Thank you."

He tipped her chin up so he could kiss her. That was very much worth the wait," he said, which was the perfect truth.

"Yes it was. But let's not wait so long to do it again."

He laughed. "Little Miss Insatiable, are we?"

"Don't tell me you don't want to fuck me all over again just as soon as you're recovered."

"Oh, I do," he agreed quickly. "Definitely."

"Well then."

"I apologise for implying that you were alone in feeling a certain insatiability," he said, and she kissed him. 

"Thank you. Apology accepted." She smirked suddenly, and he wondered why. "Of course, you could fuck me all over again without having to wait to recover."

"How so?"

"I brought my vibrator with me."

"Oh did you, indeed." She giggled, then nodded. "Perhaps you should fetch it then."

She lifted herself off him, and he sighed softly as his spent cock slid out of her, then he removed the condom and got to his feet in his turn so that he could dispose of it. He watched Mary walking away, and admired the way she seemed so relaxed at being naked. Some of the older women he'd had as lovers had hated him to see them naked, seeming ashamed at their ageing bodies. He was pleased that Mary wasn't like that – he liked her body just the way it was.

She returned a few moments later, and he fetched their drinks as she sat down on the mattress, setting down the vibrator beside her.

"Thank you." She took her glass from him and swallowed a large swig as he sat down next to her. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," he said immediately.

"Have you ever fucked a woman up the arse." He nodded. "Good."

"Do you want me to do that with you?" he asked, feeling a stir of desire in response to her question.

"Yes." She drank some more fruit juice, then added, "I have been with two men at once."

"Oh my god!" James wondered why his cock wasn't springing upright at this information. "Did you enjoy it?"

She nodded, and he caught a gleam of amusement in her eyes. "I did. I could never persuade Martin to agree to it, though. Nor would he even agree to fuck my arse while I used a sex toy in my pussy."

"Shame on him," James said fervently. "I would love to fuck your arse while you fuck your pussy with your vibrator. In the meantime, though, I shall put this to good use."

She smirked, then carried their empty glasses across to the table. "I'm glad to hear it." Returning, she positioned herself on hands and knees on the mattress, and James knelt behind her. "Do you need me to put some lube on this thing?"

"I don't think so. I'm think I'm still wet enough from you fucking me just now."

He gave a nod, then reached around in front of her and began easing the vibrator inside her pussy. She moaned, and he heard her mutter "Good, good" as he penetrated her. He turned it on at its lowest setting initially, and wrapped his left arm around her waist as he began to fuck her with the toy. She moaned a second time, more loudly, then pressed back against his crotch, and it was his turn to moan as she began to grind her arse against his still flaccid cock while he fucked her with the vibrator. 

After a few minutes she gasped, "Faster, James", and he obediently turned the speed up, before resuming his thrusting with the toy.

By the time Mary had come again, James' cock was stiff and leaking pre-cum, and she grinned at him as she flopped sideways onto the mattress and saw how ready he was.

"You are quite the sexiest woman I've ever known," he told her. "And I've known a few."

She giggled, then tugged at his arm, and he put the vibrator aside, then lay down beside her; they lay facing each other, he on his left side, she on her right, and he drew her body flush against his so he could kiss her. She threw her leg over his thigh, so that her wet pussy was pressing against his swollen prick.

"I don't know about that," she told him. "I just know I like being with you as you make me feel thirty, not sixty."

"You make me feel as horny as a teenager," he observed, eliciting another giggle.

"Give me a few minutes to catch my breath again," she asked, "and then you can fuck my arse, and I'll fuck myself."

"You do realise that if we keep this up for the next four days, we'll neither of us being able to walk, and we'll be so well and truly fucked that we'll need another holiday just to recover."

Mary laughed. "It'll be worth it, though."

James chuckled. "Yes, you're right. It will." He kissed her deeply, savouring the surge of desire her felt for her, and thanking his lucky stars that he'd found such an uninhibited woman. He and Mary were going to have fun, and that was all that mattered.


End file.
